


Lost in Translation

by monsieur-hadrien (armanikenma)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: And they're adults, But with good reason, Coffee Shops, Draco Malfoy Speaks French, Draco is kind of paranoid, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry Potter is Bad at Feelings, Harry Potter is Obsessed with Draco Malfoy, Harry lacks any conversational skills, Head Auror Harry Potter, M/M, Parseltongue, Sixth Year but make it at the Ministry, Unspeakable Draco Malfoy, We love him anyway, bless his soul, that doesn't mean Harry is any better at talking to Draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:40:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27046621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armanikenma/pseuds/monsieur-hadrien
Summary: Head Auror Harry Potter, for all the great things he had done, could not figure out how to ask Draco Malfoy out for the life of him. Solution: stare until Draco noticed.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 177





	Lost in Translation

**Author's Note:**

> I got this prompt from drarrysdementor on Tumblr  
> also crossposted on my Tumblr, monsieur-hadrien

Harry Potter was not the most articulate of wizards. Although he had been in the spotlight since he was eleven, and even more so now with his Head Auror position, never had the boy wonder overcome his sub-par speaking skills. Hermione had told him many times that he should work on his people skills in general, and while the fiery passion he exuded in his speeches usually made up for his lack of eloquence, it did not make up for his conversational skills. What could he say? He’s a man of simple pleasures. Harry had his friends and, while he would never admit it, talking to new people scared him a bit.

Maybe that’s why he found Draco Malfoy so enthralling.

While Harry was vaguely aware that the blonde had gotten a research job at the ministry, it wasn’t until his promotion that he started seeing him around. Quite often Harry would see Draco exiting the muggle coffee shop down the road from the Ministry, his camel-colored trench coat fluttering slightly in the wind as he strutted, yes _strutted_ , down the sidewalk, casually sipping from his cup.

It wasn’t the fact that Malfoy’s favorite morning coffee was from a muggle shop that surprised Harry the most (based on the heartfelt apology letters that he and the rest of the trio received after Draco’s trial, he assumed that the former death eater had rescinded his family’s beliefs). Nor was it the fact that he seemed to be ordering coffee - let’s be honest, the man had always seemed much too posh to ever drink anything other than earl grey and the occasional imported red wine or luxury liquor. No, it was the fact that he looked _so damn fit_ while doing it. Draco had grown up, that’s uncontested. They all grew up, in fact, but not everyone grew up to look like that. That’s not to say that he was unattractive in school, quite the opposite really, but the newly softened facial features and, might he say, impeccable legs are truly a sight for sore eyes. Coupled with his new subtle confidence - less “bow down peasant” than their Hogwarts days, for sure - Harry became quite smitten with his former rival.

Well, perhaps he didn’t realize that he was enamored right away, but something (Harry would call it a “gut feeling” even though it was probably another certain organ) possessed him to go get coffee at that exact coffee shop one morning. Now, a normal person would have probably struck up a conversation, but Harry James Potter is not a normal person.

He decided as any other sane person would, to wake up an hour earlier than usual to purchase, what he would call over-priced, coffee, and sit in the shop in hopes of seeing the young Malfoy. Although Harry brought with him unfinished paperwork and a book to complete, he opted to “discreetly” watch the door for the next half hour.

If Draco noticed Harry while he got in line to order his morning drink, he didn’t let on. He left as quickly as he came in too, much to Harry’s demise. He couldn’t help but feel a tinge of disappointment, though he didn’t have the right to, he thought. It’s not like he had ever sought out the former Slytherin, so why would Malfoy expect him to now? Years later, much less. Harry waited a few minutes more before he left the shop as well. That was an utter failure, and _obviously_ , Harry decided, he would not be doing that again.

Harry returned each morning for coffee for the next two weeks, and each morning he was promptly ignored by the one man he attended for.

It was Friday. Harry had planned to go home early that day, but an accident in the field (including a pet kneazle, an illegally obtained vial of amortentia, and a trampoline - how the trampoline got there, no one knew) gave him enough paperwork that he’d be up quite late that night. Near dinnertime, Harry collected his papers and tucked them into his bag to bring with him as he grabbed a bite to eat, but before he could leave, there was an angry rapping at his office door. He sighed, exasperated, and went to answer. Opening his door, he expected to see Hermione or Ron ready to scold him for forgetting some very important event, like a charity ball for Britain’s animal shelters or, Merlin forbid, a Chudley Cannons match.

Instead, to Harry’s delighted surprise, standing outside the door was Draco Malfoy, glaring at him with a cold fury. Any fuzzy feeling that Harry had disappeared when he saw the look on his face. 

He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Can I, uh-”

“Yes, I would like to know the reason that the Auror Department has been following me for the past two weeks.” Draco’s tone read as polite, but his tense shoulders and the fists balled at his side told Harry otherwise.

Bewildered, Harry states, “The DMLE hasn’t been-”

“Oh, cut the shit, Potter.” Draco shoved past Harry, entering the office while slamming the door behind him. “The Malfoy family owes nothing more to the Ministry. We’ve already allowed the Auror Department to search and seize any dark artifacts at the manor, and my father is serving his time in Azkaban as we speak if you haven’t forgotten. I will not have the Ministry slander my family name any more than they ha-”

“Draco,” whoops, that one slipped out, “I have no clue what you’re on about.”

His polite front vanished, “Don’t play coy with me, Head Auror Potter. I’ve seen you every morning for the past two weeks watching me get tea. I’m not as dense as you seem to be.”

Harry froze. Oh my god, that’s embarrassing. “Oh,” was the only thing he could think to respond with.

Draco laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Oh? ‘Oh?!’ Is that all you could think of to explain yourself? You may be the Savior of the Wizarding World, Potter,” Harry cringed at the nickname, “but you aren’t above the law. I will be reporting this to Minister Shacklebolt if you don’t explain yours-”

“I wasn’t trying to follow you or anything…”

“Then what the hell do you call the past two weeks, Potter?”

“... Well maybe I did.” Draco scoffed at him and almost began speaking again, but Harry started before him. “But it wasn’t because you did anything.”

All he got in response was a calculating stare as if Draco was trying to catch him in a lie. He must have passed because all Draco said in return was, “Then why?"

Harry could feel the blood rush up to his ears and he nervously reached for the nape of his neck. He did not want to look the other man in the eyes at that moment. Literally _anywhere_ other than him. “Uh…”

“Ah yes, Potter, very articulate as always. Now spit it out.”

The blush began to migrate to Harry’s cheeks. Damn Malfoy for looking so fit even when he’s angry. He mumbled a confession, his words stringing together into an incoherent jumble of syllables. “ well idon’tknow i saw that you wenttothat coffee shop all the time‘n i wanted totalkto you but i didn’ know howso i decided ‘oh why not just go in ‘n see if he talkstome first’ but then you didn’t so i was like ‘oh maybe i should juslikenot’ but then i kept going i don’know i didn’ mean to make you uncomfor-”

“Harry Potter, I cannot understand a word you are saying.”

**_“I wanted to ask you out.”_ **

Draco just quirked his eyebrow. _“vous devez travailler sur vos compétences en relations humaines, Monsieur Potter.”_

Harry’s face scrunched up in confusion. “What?-”

_“Je pensais qu’on parlait différentes langues pour s’amuser.”_

“I don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I didn’t know what you said earlier either,” the blonde replied with a smirk with only half the malice he had when he walked into the room.

Harry just looked even more confused, dazed even. Draco slowed his speech down, as if talking to a small child, “That wasn’t English you were speaking.”

“Oh?...” Pause. “Oh…”

“Is parseltongue a defense mechanism, or do you just people skills equivalent to that of a garden snake?”

“Shut up, Malfoy.”

“I thought it was Draco to you now, Auror Potter?” Harry groaned in embarrassment and buried his face in his forearms as he sat back down in his office chair. “But I would like to know what you said,” Draco continued after a beat, his smirk disappearing.

In a fleeting moment of courage, Harry pulled his head from his arms and looked Draco in the eye, his blushing face as honest and open as he could be. That’s one thing he was quite good at, being honest. “I was going to ask you out to coffee.”

Draco’s face was impassive. “Like… a date…”

Harry confirmed with a short nod, his eyes focusing on anything other than Draco, nerve gone. “Yeah, a date.” His voice cracked. Again, very embarrassing. Harry decided that an early grave might not be too bad at this point.

A few beats went by. Draco’s calculating expression morphed into one of determination, a very good look on him if Harry was being honest. “Tomorrow morning at 9. I’ll be waiting at the coffee shop. _Au revoir_.” He moved with grace to the door, the same walk he had every morning. Leaving a very confused Harry in his office chair, Draco opened the door to leave, but not before turning around to say, “Don’t be late.” He grinned and walked out to the hall, closing the door behind him.

Harry sat there, staring at the door for minutes after, processing the encounter. He got a date, yeah. But what stuck out to him, probably the most important part of that conversation, was that he was _fucking right_.

Draco Malfoy, like the posh git he is, orders tea from a coffee shop. Whether it’s earl grey or not, Harry did not know. He would, however, be asking tomorrow.


End file.
